Light the Sky
by prospectkiss
Summary: The fireworks are about to go off, and Edgeworth is still working in his office. Or, how Phoenix's attempts to rescue the man lead to sarcastic banter, unexpected office dancing, and sparks flying - and not just in the air.


The fireworks were going to go off soon, and if he hurried they could make it in time to see.

Phoenix rapped his knuckles lightly at Edgeworth's door, in case the Chief Prosecutor had fallen asleep on one of his office sofas or was slumped over again at his desk. The scars of the vicious tongue-lashing he'd received years ago, when he'd thrown the door wide without warning and flooded the office in harsh fluorescent light, accidentally reigniting Edgeworth's migraine, still remained fresh in his memory. He pushed forward just enough to peek inside.

"Hey Edgeworth! Are you still there?"

The other prosecutors had left long ago, either to avoid the holiday traffic or to start their celebrations early. The imposing building was eerily dark and deserted, save for one occupant.

As he'd expected, Edgeworth was hunched at his desk, surrounded by case files and empty tea saucers, bathed in the wan glow of his laptop and the ambient city light from the windows behind him. From the look of it, he hadn't left his office in hours. Sometimes Phoenix envied his friend's extraordinary work ethic.

But more often, that stubbornness meant _someone_ needed to rescue the man from himself.

The prosecutor blinked at him in surprise, as though he had only now noticed how dark the room had become. Though outwardly he snickered at Edgeworth's owlish look, Phoenix secretly treasured that expression.

With a long-suffering sigh, Edgeworth waved him in.

"Wright. What are you doing here at this hour?" His voice was lower than usual, unused for the better part of the day.

Phoenix perched on the corner of the massive desk, ignoring the unimpressed glare directed at his hips. There was no real heat in it anyway. "You know what day it is?"

Edgeworth leaned back in his seat, swiveling slightly to better face him. "It's a Thursday evening. Surely you have a calendar."

He rolled his eyes, slow and exaggerated. "Yeah, and that calendar says it's Independence Day. You know, a _holiday_."

Edgeworth scoffed, rubbing his fingers against his temples. The creases beside his eyes were fainter than they used to be, now that public faith in the legal system was on the rise. Perhaps one day they would disappear entirely. A sudden urge shot through Phoenix, a keen desire to run his own thumbs against those stress lines, smooth them out, perhaps brush back those grey bangs…

No. That was a dangerous line of thought, stoking a desire he could not fulfill. Their relationship remained in a comfortable place: more than simple friends, but less than romantic partners. There was care, certainly, and deep regard, but it had never evolved into something more. Edgeworth had his travels, and he had his daughter, and the stress of the last seven years prevented anything more between them. The timing was never quite right, like a dance that was out-of-sync with the melody. If something were to spark between them, it would have happened a long time ago.

"Just because it is a holiday doesn't mean crime magically stops. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Phoenix gave himself a mental shake, hoping Edgeworth missed his blatant staring. "Yeah, but that usually means working overtime _after_ the festivities, not before." Glancing aside, he traced his fingers along the edge of the bureau, smudging the polish. "You always work too late on holidays. Trust me, it's not good for your back to sleep on the office couch."

Edgeworth let out a non-committal noise in response.

He leaned forward, bracing his palms on his knees and bringing him nearly eye-to-eye to the prosecutor. Edgeworth's eyes were half-lidded up close; the man definitely needed a break. "Why don't you give it a rest for tonight? Maybe come watch the fireworks with me and Trucy?"

"You came all the way here just to ask me that?" Edgeworth's lips quirked up in a faint smirk. "Perhaps you haven't heard of a useful invention called the telephone?"

"W-Well, I just… you know," Phoenix mumbled, straightening, one had rubbing at the back of his neck. A flush crept across his cheeks.

"I know you have nothing better to do with your time," Edgeworth said, a playful edge in his voice rendering the harsh words into something more familiar and warm.

Phoenix held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine." He risked meeting the other man's eyes again. "It's not too far to get to the park from here. We still have a little time before the show begins." He plastered his brightest grin across his face, all teeth and charm. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Edgeworth gave him a condescending smile, shaking his head in amusement. It reminded him of their old battles in the courtroom, all fire and tension. "That was abysmal. Your smooth talk won't work on me, Wright."

The prosecutor rolled his shoulders and reached his arms behind his back, stretching out sore muscles. He moved his head side-to-side, glasses glinting in the low light, his long neck peeking out from the confines of his cravat. Still tempting, after all these years.

With a hard swallow, Phoenix shifted his gaze out the windows and to the night sky. A comfortable lull fell between them, filled with contemplative quiet. The city's ever-present lights prevented any stars from being seen, too faint against the hazy glow. He could imagine the chatter of the crowds gathering below, murmuring in excitement as they waited for the sky to burst into a colorful clatter.

The office, in contrast, remained quiet. For the first time Phoenix noticed soft music playing from the laptop. It wasn't quite jazzy, or ambient; it was something in between, soothing, a slow beat conducive to long bouts of thinking. He liked it.

"Where is Trucy this evening?"

Edgeworth had started tidying his desktop, stacking the teacups and shuffling papers into piles. At least he was making steps toward leaving before midnight.

Phoenix smiled, both at Edgeworth and at the thought of his daughter. "She's at People Park. Your rockstar prosecutor is doing a special concert, and she insisted on dancing with her friends." He shrugged; Trucy was old enough to take care of herself, especially carrying all those knives she seemed fond of despite his protests. And if anyone got too forward, Athena wouldn't hesitate to knock them to the ground.

The folders were stacked; the music moved on to another, low-key track.

"Do you know how to dance, Miles?"

The question tumbled out, straight from the the part of his heart that still entertained the hope of _one day, maybe_.

He received a look somewhere between startled and baffled. "Not the sort that occurs in clubs. I received instruction for ballroom dance under von Karma's tutelage."

Now there was a thought: the prosecutor decked out in a sleek tuxedo, spinning beneath a chandelier, all elegance and refinement. Before he could ask anything further, Edgeworth rose from his seat, moving to stand beside Phoenix. Phoenix leaned closer, letting his shoulder brush against his friend's. A shiver ran up the prosecutor's spine, perhaps from tiredness or the overly-cool office air.

Edgeworth peered out the window as well, avoiding looking at him. "And you, Wright? I can easily picture you making a fool of yourself on the dance floor."

The half-hearted punch he delivered to Edgeworth's arm was, in his opinion, well-deserved. "Hey, I did theatre in college. I could dance well enough in the musicals. And I did all right with Trucy during those father-daughter dances."

Thin lips curled into an amused smile, almost unseen in the dimness. "Leaving aside your _Broadway beginnings_ ," Edgeworth started, words dripping with the promise of future mockery, "I have to ask: did you ever really dance with your daughter, or was it more like an awkward shuffle?"

The prosecutor had reached that level of exhaustion, caught between collapse and a second wind, where he lowered his guard and let his sarcasm have free rein. It happened rarely, and only in the presence of a select few. Phoenix enjoyed it more than he'd ever admit.

"I never stepped on her toes, if that's what you're asking," he deflected, grin wide.

"Hmph."

Edgeworth folded his arms across his chest, head dipping down. Grey bangs fell in front of his face. It was hard to tell what his friend was thinking when in this pose, his emotions hidden even in front of others. However, this close he could see Edgeworth's mouth curled up in a smile, putting him at ease. When he heard a low chuckle emerge, Phoenix was tempted to join in, the sound more than a little appealing.

"Well then, Phoenix," Edgeworth said, wry smile displayed openly as he stepped in front of him. He held out a hand, angling forward in a slight bow. "Would you care to join me? That is, if you can keep from riding around on my toes."

For a moment Phoenix could only stare, mouth drying out as fast as a desert wind. Of course he should say 'No.' That was what they both expected, right? It was only a bit of pretense to poke fun at him. But as he met his friend's eyes, Edgeworth's narrowing in return, his breath cut short. There was something more than just a joke lurking in those dark depths: apprehension, embarrassment, sincerity. Trucy had helped him to spot the tells in others, and now, in the pale light of the office, he saw _something_ from Edgeworth.

That long-held hope sparked into new life.

With his heart rocketing into his throat, and an almost imperceptible tremble in his fingers, he grasped Edgeworth's palm. Grey eyes widened as he scooted down from the desk, as though Edgeworth could scarcely believe he had accepted. The whole situation felt surreal as he stood at arms' length from his friend, hand-in-hand, staring at each other. Only the soft notes broke the stillness, the music playing on as though nothing important was happening.

Edgeworth cleared his throat, recovering first, seeming more alert than he'd been since Phoenix entered the office. He raised their joined hands to shoulder level. Phoenix placed a palm on Edgeworth's shoulder, thumb brushing against the cravat, prompting the prosecutor to slide his unoccupied hand around Phoenix's back.

"I suppose this means I'll lead," Edgeworth said, confident voice betrayed by the slightest quaver. Or perhaps Phoenix's imagination was getting too fanciful. The heat from those hands was distracting, after all.

He nodded, trying and failing to quell the nervous flutters in his stomach. "Yeah. I figure I'm pretty good at following after you by now."

Was that a flush tinting Edgeworth's cheeks?

"Let's try a box step. I'm sure even you can manage that."

As Phoenix's mind frantically reminded him of what a box step was — _like a waltz!_ — Edgeworth pushed forward, and he nearly tripped as he hustled to move back in time. After a reproachful glare, he let himself follow the gentle push of Edgeworth's hand on his back, guiding him to the side. It took a few fumbling steps, where they nearly collided and barely avoided trampling on each others' toes, but they soon found a pattern that worked: a modified waltz, pausing at each step to match the beat.

Finally, he could stop looking down at their feet and instead meet his partner's glance. Edgeworth's usual stoic expression was gone, replaced by something fond and nearly… affectionate? The air felt warmer, filled with the gentle clicks of their dress shoes on the tiles and the slow, steady music. Phoenix inched forward, closing a little of the distance between them as the last notes of the song wound down.

"I think we can step it up a little this time," he said, laughing a little and squeezing Edgeworth's hand.

"Oh?" Edgeworth raised his brow, amused. "Here I was thinking this was all you could manage."

"Don't make me bust out my jazz hands," Phoenix threatened. He briefly let go of Edgeworth to waggle his fingers and do a quick soft shuffle, knowing those moves looked silly off-stage but still hoping Edgeworth would be impressed. He was rewarded with a dismissive snort, though the smile lingered.

"In that case," Edgeworth said, eyes glinting behind his glasses, "I suppose we should move on from the beginners' class. Perhaps a few spins would satisfy you." He strode past the windows and away from his desk to a more open corner of the office. Once again he held out his hand in invitation.

Even in the dim shadows, the image embedded itself with crystal clarity into Phoenix's memory.

It took only an instant to close the distance. He maneuvered a bit nearer this time, using the opportunity to lightly press against Edgeworth's chest. If the prosecutor had any objection, he never voiced it; in fact, when his arm slid around Phoenix again it dipped lower, settling against the small of his back.

Phoenix hoped his grin was as bright as the sudden rush of joy that burst in his heart, blooming like the fireworks they would be late in seeing.

The music was too quiet to hear this far away, but it didn't matter. They matched each others' rhythm, gliding in smooth circles punctuated by precision steps from the prosecutor and improvised flourishes from Phoenix. The eclectic mixture of formal and flashy should have been a disaster; but as Edgeworth coaxed him into an outward spin and pulled him back with a snap, Phoenix believed their two styles intertwined perfectly.

They reached a pause, facing each other. His pulse raced from more than just the dance. Phoenix was panting, and to his surprise Edgeworth's breathing had turned fast and shallow.

Their eyes met.

Ah. There went his heart skipping a beat. Edgeworth, with his brow slightly furrowed in concentration, his lip drawn in at the corner, was watching him intently, as though no one else in the world existed. Had Edgeworth always looked at him this way? Had he just not _noticed_?

What could this mean?

The fingers at his back twitched, and Phoenix had the sense that Edgeworth was going to lean him down into a dip.

Before either of them moved further, an inescapable _**BOOM**_ ripped through the air, followed by a flash of light. The office glowed, momentarily bright, and Phoenix looked out the windows just in time to see a shower of purple sparks rain down.

"I guess the fireworks already started," he mumbled as the next streak soared into the sky and then burst into crackling golden streamers. Truthfully, he had forgotten all about them once the prosecutor had extended his hand.

He leaned back to look at Edgeworth, but found his partner still watching the fireworks light the sky. The colors were reflected into the room, hues of green and blue and bright red bouncing across Edgeworth's glasses and blooming across his features.

He expected Edgeworth to be irritated at the noise and unnecessary commotion. Instead, the prosecutor's face went slack with fascination.

"Look," Edgeworth said, sounding younger and full of marvel. "It's beautiful."

Phoenix didn't respond immediately, gaze drawn to Edgeworth's profile and wondering if Miles had ever looked quite so…

"Yeah," he finally managed, tongue turning dry again. "It really is."

Something in his voice must have given him away. Edgeworth turned suddenly, one eyebrow lifted in suspicion and a questioning sound directed at him. At that piercing look, Phoenix felt his stomach plummet into his toes. His mind spun into protective overdrive, caught so blatantly mooning over his friend.

"Wright, you weren't looking at the fireworks," Edgeworth stated flatly. "You were staring at me."

His face grew red as he attempted to bluff. "Oh? Ahh well, you see… I was nearly an artist, right?" It was the first thing that popped into his head. "I saw how nicely the fireworks reflected in your eyes, and you know, it was stunning. From an artistic point of view!" His hand crept up to his neck; his skin was on fire.

He had no idea how he could say all of that with a straight face, especially when he wanted to turn heel and run. Judging by Edgeworth's dubious expression, his rambling had only made him seem more foolish.

There was no way Edgeworth believed any of that. He'd embarrassed himself enough; he should just—

The stream of self-flagellation was halted by a rumble of laughter.

He chanced another look at the prosecutor, and to his utter astonishment, the man wore a flustered grin. Edgeworth's hand had paused halfway to his face, as though he had intended to hide his amusement — _he was smiling!_ — but changed his mind.

"Always such a charmer, aren't you?"

If dancing with the prosecutor had felt surreal, Phoenix was certain he had to be dreaming now. Edgeworth looked at him with open affection, and his pulse raced as he stared back, mouth dropping open. His eyes flitted between the prosecutor's, shining in the dark; to the flush on his cheeks, pink and barely noticeable; to his lips, curved in that disarming, inviting smile.

Was Edgeworth _flirting_?

"…Wait, weren't you the one who said my smooth talk doesn't work on you?" His hands settled back onto Edgeworth, one at his shoulder again, the other creeping up along his front, fingertips poking to emphasize his point. If Edgeworth wanted to be coy, he could turn that right about.

"Well…" A warm palm settled on his hand. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

Oh. This was something he never planned for. A hot blush bloomed across Phoenix's whole face as his friend waited for his response. How could Edgeworth — a ferocious force in the courtroom, a consummate professional, a man full of confidence and self-assured purpose — how could _Miles_ suddenly look so hesitant? Vulnerable? As if he feared Phoenix would laugh at him or even reject…

The moment stretched on, the two of them suspended in uncertainty and possibility.

If ever he had the opportunity to try, it was now.

Phoenix drew in a deep breath, and wet his lips. Edgeworth made no move except for his eyes, which lowered to focus on Phoenix's mouth. Heart beating madly, Phoenix leaned forward and tilted his head, and softly pressed his lips to Miles.

So this was what it felt like, after all these years.

Breath against his cheek. Lips yielding for him. The echo of fireworks fading to stillness.

He only intended to stay a moment, but Edgeworth's hand pulled at his shoulder and his other arm wrapped around his back, holding him in place. Phoenix's pulse thrummed, blood singing.

And Miles returned his kiss.

The commotion outside went unheeded. They were slow, careful, each press heavy and lingering. At last the kiss broke, though they did not step apart. Phoenix rested his forehead against Miles's, eyes closed, and waited, breathing quietly, reveling in their closeness.

He sensed Edgeworth shift, and when he finally peeked through his lashes he found Miles looking at him.

"Hey," he said, voice raw and low.

"Hello," Edgeworth returned, just as soft.

"Was that all right?" He was sure Edgeworth would have pushed him away if it hadn't been, but there was a part of him that wanted to hear the reassurance.

Another firework burst outside the window, illuminating the room in a silvery hue.

In answer, Edgeworth leaned back just enough to remove his glasses and tuck them into his coat pocket. He cupped his hand against Phoenix's cheek and pulled him in for another kiss.

Their mouths opened for each other, the kiss deeper, more passionate. Hands roamed, brushing against evening stubble and tousling in hair, sliding to squeeze at strong shoulder blades and waists. Their voices loosed in breathy gasps and deeper groans.

This time, when they parted, chests heaving with the effort to draw in air, Phoenix grinned. He felt lightheaded, weak-kneed, filled with enough happiness to light the sky himself.

Even Edgeworth wore a satisfied smile.

"I guess we don't need to go see the fireworks," Phoenix said, hand clasping Edgeworth's and his thumb stroking his palm.

Edgeworth drew himself straighter, cheeks still flushed, still close enough to touch. All signs of his exhaustion had disappeared. "I'm almost afraid to ask why not."

Phoenix let a wry smile spread over his face. "Because we have all the sparks we need here."

It was worth the exasperated glare.

"Fine, fine," Phoenix relented, "but I think they're nearly done." He glanced at Edgeworth's laptop clock. "Maybe we can go grab a late bite? I know a good diner."

Edgeworth was still holding on to his hand.

"Are you asking me for a date, Phoenix?"

He met Miles's eyes. "Yeah, I guess I am."

For all the years that had passed, they had so many more ahead of them, bright and full of hope.

"Then I accept."

* * *

 _Author's Notes_ : This story was based off of a lovely comic done by artist Nihhon on tumblr, and can be found at nihhon . tumblr post / 167739728113 / have-some-stress-relief-sketches-i-made-just-for

The artist stated, in sum: "It was a national holiday, and they were dancing in Edgeworth's office, and then suddenly there were fireworks and Edgeworth got distracted. Phoenix got distracted for a different reason."


End file.
